<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Law of Observed Phenomena by Chaifootsteps</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26673364">The Law of Observed Phenomena</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaifootsteps/pseuds/Chaifootsteps'>Chaifootsteps</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Dark Crystal (1982), The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brief handsiness, Canon compliant up until the last chapter, Developing Relationship, Fix-It, M/M, Nobody gets hurt in my dream, skekUng and skekTek are bad at this</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:06:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,690</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26673364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaifootsteps/pseuds/Chaifootsteps</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times skekTek was oblivious to skekUng's flirting, and one time he was not.</p><p>For Brains.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>skekTek/skekUng (Dark Crystal)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It begins, as most things should, with a live, angry snoutling.</p><p> </p><p>She's part of skekAyuk's new stock keeping project. The newly titled Gourmand, having already achieved great success with his herb garden, sees no justifiable reason why the same principle shouldn't apply to meat and milk and eggs. After all, why rely on the Gelfling to breed it, raise it, butcher it, and bring it in when that perfectly serviceable meditation garden once put into practice by the UrSkeks is just sitting there, unused by anyone?</p><p> </p><p>Her name, fittingly, is Wild Mouth. SkekEkt tries to pet her once and screams when her fangs clack down a hair's breadth away from his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“I don't see why you couldn't have started with a nice young Nebrie, Gourmand,” skekTek remarks dryly, as a group of them sits around watching her root along the far wall, yellow eye trained suspiciously back on them. “And <em>then</em> worked up to things with tusks.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nebrie need water to live,” skekAyuk replies brightly, head clearly swimming with visions of sausages. “We'd have had to flood the entire garden.”</p><p> </p><p>“For the sake of Nebrie butchered only that day? No threat of being gored, no squealing in the small nocturnal hours required? I would have devised a way. You <em>know </em>I would have, Gourmand.”</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, apropos of nothing, skekUng is raising his head. “You want to know how to handle snoutlings? I can show you.”</p><p> </p><p>It takes skekTek a moment to realize he's been spoken to at all. A Castle guard by choice and an introvert by nature, skekUng often lounges around and listens and occasionally huffs, but rarely ever interjects. “Me?”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“...Now?”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Yes.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Er, well, I <em>suppose</em>--”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>That's all it takes. SkekUng clears the wall in a single leap, landing lightly on all six limbs, scarcely disturbing the hay and straw that litters the ground of what was once a place of great spiritual significance to the UrSkeks. An intruder to the Castle would have never known what hit them.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Neither does the snoutling.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>SkekUng is no Hunter, but neither is he a mountain of graceless muscle, like skekVar. He streaks across the yard, sinew flexing, long and silver and as naked as any of them when the Gelfling are not around, and collides with the sweet and tender future mother of a thousand roasted centerpieces of the Skeksis table, leaping onto her broad back and pinning her beneath his seven lengths of height and several hundred units of weight.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Caught by surprise, there's all of a moment when it looks as though subduing their charge really is that simple. SkekTek almost feels inadequate for not having done so himself.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>And then the snoutling <em>roars.</em></p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Not a squeal, like she gives when whoever's feeding her takes too long to evacuate her pen. Not a shriek, like she's fond of giving early in the morning, just to give the world a warning that she's up and about. A full-throated, ugly, bellowing cry that reverberates off the Castle walls and sends everyone leaping from their seats.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>And skekUng roars back.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>The next thing skekTek knows, the snoutling is half up on her hooves, half off, taking skekUng with her, her three sets of tusks flashing dangerously in the late morning sun. The <em>next </em>thing he knows, there's dirt and litter everywhere, and the two of them are rolling over and over, pitting their weight against each other, roaring and snarling for all they're worth. SkekTek's crest shoots up in such violent alarm that he's certain it will be locked that way permanently. The other Skeksis on the wall can't seem to decide whether to watch or run for help, and settle for screaming thoughtlessly as they dance about on useless claws.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Get her, skekUng!” calls skekVar, the one exception. “Show them all how it's done!”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>SkekTek is certain they're about to experience skekHak and skekYi all over again.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>But just when he's poised to leap in and help, skekUng somehow manages to get his hands around the tusks that were mere moments ago poised to plunge into his chest; beak to nose, eyes locked onto one another. And like magic, the snoutling falls...not <em>quiet</em>, but something less resembling murder. Flanks heaving, yes, wet snout sucking hair, beady eyes still narrowed, but no longer making an active attempt to scatter skekUng's entrails across the yard. It looks as much like a respectful stalemate as it does anything, and it occurs faintly to skekTek that another look into the ritual tussling habits of snoutlings may be in order.</p><p> </p><p>SkekUng, through a wild, sweat-soaked mass of silver hair and feathers, grins.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Scientist! </em>Do you see? Simple as that!”</p><p> </p><p>SkekTek can only watch, dumbfounded, as a wound opens up across his flank, trickling gruesomely onto the dirt.</p><p> </p><p>The stock keeping project lasts all of six unum, and ends after skekSo himself incurs a leg laceration. They eat the Stonewood fowl, order eggs to replace the ones that were never laid, pay the Podlings to clean out the yard. SkekUng insists on releasing the snoutling into the woods.</p><p><br/><br/>SkekUng never brings up the incident again, and skekTek never succeeds in figuring out what came over him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The trine have been kind to them all.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>SkekTek is still young, brilliant, adored for it. <em>Celebrated</em>. SkekOk puts his achievements to quill and ink, and at least every other unum sees him toasted around the table.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>SkekUng is still young, and still strong – too strong for a life of stitching and disinfecting, and he knows it -- but exactly strong enough to convince fractious Skeksis that sitting quietly and taking their medicine without a fuss is in their best interest. He has little interest in the sciences, in cataloging and welding and soldering, which works out nicely, because skekTek has little interest in devoting himself wholly to medicine. Where their interests overlap, there lies the place where skekTek mends his hand.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>It's not a clean wound; injuries inflicted by Skeksis teeth never are. He rinses out the deep red punctures for a very long time, knowing infection is all but inevitable if he doesn't, and packs them full of the sharp smelling, astringent yellow ointment skekUng mixes himself.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Brutes and fools,” he says, albeit without much heat. “And skekVar the worst of them all. One of you is going to see an eye enucleated before all is said done.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Don't speak of things you don't understand,” skekUng retorts, and if there's one peculiar thing skekTek has learned about his colleague, it's that his insults are curiously free of condescension. He means, quite literally, that skekTek does not understand his and skekVar's need to bash each other senseless on the sparring grounds, and therefore should not comment on it.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>SkekTek's still going to, of course. “I can and most certainly will, because <em>I'm </em>the one staring down into your lumbrical! And if you spill your viscera onto the yard, I’ll be the one to tend that too!”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Next time, I'll tend my own lumbrical. And my own viscera.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Fine,” skekTek agrees, reaching for a clean cloth and tying it around skekUng's hand, which silly and violent as it may be, is a surgeon's hand. Is still attached to the Skeksis who stayed up all night with skekOk when he had greywater fever.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>SkekUng may be perpetually torn between a life of healing and bleeding anything that poses a threat to Skeksis-kind, but it can’t be said that he doesn’t do both exceptionally well.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>SkekUng for his part remains silent, dark brown eyes thoughtful, watching the cloth weave around and around, until...</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“You have very gentle hands.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>SkekTek huffs, quietly, and ties the dressing around the back. Suspects there may be an insult in that, or maybe not, but either way, is far too busy to sift for it.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Off you go, then.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>SkekTek is no longer young, and neither are any of the others.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>They say this is entirely skekTek's fault. That it's <em>his </em>responsibility to keep them alive, and skekTek agrees, and works his talons to the bone to find a way, and <em>does</em>. The Ceremony of the Sun costs them their ability to dream, but it keeps them breathing, and they celebrate him for all of 50 trine.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>Not enough, they decide then, to live forever. Not enough, when their feathers fall out and their hair grays and their muscles go soft. Not enough to cling to the Crystal like a Sifa clinging to a spar, they thought he'd done better than that, and if he'd only done his due diligence earlier, he could have kept them all in their prime, where they <em>belong.</em></p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>Fortunately, he has his labs, and his quiet time to think, and his work that supersedes what the shallow, astigmatic Skeksis say about him <em>today</em>. It's only a matter of time before he does find a solution, a permanent solution, and then they'll eat their words, and isn’t that always the way of true genius?</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>So really, truthfully, it doesn't matter that he can't remember the last time they were kind to him. Nor that skekUng, when he's back in the castle, is no exception.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“<em>Thin!</em>” the Beast-Master says, sizing him up in a single disdainful glance. “Why haven't you attended meals?”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Look to your own affairs,” skekTek snarls back.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>But skekUng does not. And it seems to never cease.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Why are your chambers a mess?”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Why aren't you groomed?”<br/><br/><br/></p>
<p>“Three days since you last slept! How do you expect to be of any use to anyone if you carry on this way?”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>And the bitter truth of the matter is that skekTek could take this. Every last word of it, he could take, until the day when skekSo throws a barb over his personal hygiene at the lunch table and just about everyone is home, and just about everyone joins in, and he doesn’t look up or taste a bite after that, but no sooner has he retreated to his lab than skekUng finds him…</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Why don't you stand up to them? Why are you so <em>weak?</em>”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>And something in skekTek breaks.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>He rushes skekUng, hissing, and dispenses with the formalities, the circling and posturing, raking the once Surgeon's shoulder with his talons so deeply that the torn cloth blooms dark and wet. His narrow shoulders heave as he stares up into the Beast-Master's dark eyes, as close as they've ever been to startled.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“<em>Call me weak again and I will cut that matted, odious hide from your wretched bones!"</em></p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>And skekUng does not growl. Does not hiss, strike, or insult him. Does not retaliate, this one time of all times skekTek sorely wishes someone would. He turns on his heel and with a flurry of robes is gone, leaving skekTek with blood on his talons and an inferno in his chest.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>SkekUng returns hours later, long after the others have retired, with a bandaged shoulder and a plate full of food. SkekTek sniffs it for poison, or bodily fluids, and finding neither, regards the other with the deepest of caution.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“...Not weak,” skekUng says at last. “Never have been.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>SkekTek stares at him, and does not take up the food.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“...I don't require your pity.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>SkekUng’s beak parts as if to snarl, then closes as though through a great effort. “Pity? Is <em>that</em> what you think this is about, pity?”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“And what else if not pity? Some unprompted uplifting of beneficence? Our shared well-being as Skeksis? Please, skekUng. I’m hardly such a fool.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>For the second time that day, skekUng looks stunned. His beak clicks open and shut ineffectually a time or two, then gives way to an exasperated bellow. For a moment, skekTek wonders if he's about to be struck after all, or if nothing else, to have something in his lab shattered but all skekUng does is pace the floor a time or two before...</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“<em>I'm leaving the food here!</em>”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Do as you like, it's of no concern to me.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“<em>Fine!</em>”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>And away he goes, growling inarticulate frustrations right up until the moment when he can no longer be heard.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>Slowly, skekTek picks up the plate.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>After that, the Podlings start sending him down his meals on days when his seat at the table is empty. He eats, having come to surmise that skekUng has more sense than the others, and knows that if the resident expert on the Crystal languishes, so do they all. It's not the same as being liked, but it's a welcome appreciation in his life nonetheless. He'll take it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>One evening, a slice of his favorite honey cake ends up on the plate. SkekTek cocks a brow.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Beast-Master insisted,” answers the Podling with the tray.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>SkekTek almost answers that he does not require coddling. That he doesn't need to be bought off with sweet things like a Podling child. That he <em>doesn</em>'<em>t</em> need someone to nursemaid around, pretending to care whether he eats or starves, bathes or doesn't, lives or dies.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>...In his defense, it's very good cake.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>No one is in the least bit surprised when skekUng leaves the Castle.</p><p> </p><p>There was never any question that he would someday grow tired of packing wounds and lancing boils and extracting things from orifices and stalk off to put his more sanguine talents to good use. It was always a matter of not if, but when, and where, and what beast would prove so strong and so intriguing that skekUng could not resist leaving to seek out more of it.</p><p> </p><p>(The answer: The Umbra beast, hailing from an unnamed mountain on the periphery of the Crystal desert. SkekUng promises to return with vials of its venom to be studied, or else not at all.)</p><p> </p><p>The meal service doesn't end when skekUng leaves, and a quick consult with the Podlings confirms that this is indeed on the Beast-Master's orders. SkekTek tells himself that this is so much the better, that it spares him the question of seeing skekUng and thus wondering after his motivations; that he hasn't grown accustomed to the honey soaked tidbits; the gruff remarks that he “looks healthy” on days when he's remembered to get enough sleep and the sudden and suspicious lack of skekZok snooping around on days when he intends to take a bath.</p><p> </p><p>SkekUng never says goodbye, but visits on the morning of his departure to grunt at him and tell him to get his talons into anyone who gives him trouble. SkekTek in turn reminds him to keep his beak closed, as Umbra venom does fly.</p><p> </p><p>SkekUng, when he comes back, is not skekGra, returning home with tales from afar. Neither is he skekSa, who's partial to sending gifts, particularly of the edible variety. And yet, the day comes when skekUng returns, box in tow.</p><p> </p><p>“Here,” he says, shoving it off into the Scientist's hands. “Yours now.”</p><p> </p><p>SkekTek, who is confident skekUng has not given a gift to anyone in all the trine he has been alive, opens the latch tentatively, slow enough to give skekUng time to snap at him not to. But the sight that greets him is not one of teeth, venomous stingers, or attempts to throw a small body against the lid, spurred on by the appearance of that lone sliver of light.</p><p> </p><p>It's a tiny peeping creature, pale green and only slightly larger than a peachberry, skittering across a coating of straw and sending up rapid patters of tiny feet. SkekTek recognizes it immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“A Ticbird?”</p><p> </p><p>SkekUng snorts. “You need something to talk to, down here alone for days on end. Much better than Fizzgig. Won't go rolling off the Crystal pit to its death.”</p><p> </p><p>“...Thank you?”</p><p> </p><p>SkekUng storms off. Not out of anger, but because storming places is his primary mode of transportation.</p><p> </p><p>That night, skekTek feeds his new charge on a mixture of warm water, mashed seeds, and just a bit of berry. He fluffs its blanket and checks that the stone keeping its temporary home warm is neither too hot, nor too cold. He watches it sleep...the utter peacefulness of its breath.<br/><br/></p><p>He imagines skekUng, far from home, picking it up and scowling at it, and then carefully bundling it away into a straw lined box, all the while thinking of him.</p><p> </p><p>“...<em>Oh, botheration</em>.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a time in his life when skekTek would have had a shoulder to turn to when faced with such a troubling social vexation. He supposes he doesn't completely <em>lack </em>for one now, that skekEkt and skekOk possess at least some degree of tact, and would probably not laugh in his face if he told them he was suffering the bitter sting of unrequited...affection.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>Then, upon realizing he needn't suffer such uncertainties ever again, he talks to the new Ticbird.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“It's not strictly because he gave you to me, of course. Although make no mistake, I'm positively jubilant to be the one caring for you now. These few days have been some of the best I've known in trine.” The little bird, whom he's come to call Sidetic, peeps in what skekTek takes to be understanding. “But it does speak to something in his nature. He's more charitable to me than I am to myself, and I know it's all part of the game... believe me, I've been down that route with skekSil, and I <em>do </em>know. But skekUng lacks the duplicity of skekSil. SkekUng has always possessed a concept of loyalty. And a worldliness that reminds me of...”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>He doesn't finish that sentence, because Sidetic is innocent and new to his life, and there's no reason to burden him with the unpleasantness that is his time with the Heretic.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Well. What matters is, I've grown accustomed to him. And I don't think I'm unfounded in becoming so.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>Sidetic responds by preening his foot. When skekTek reaches in to scratch him with a talon, he nibbles it in kind.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>SkekTek, as emboldened as he'll ever be, sets off to find skekUng. He finds him on the balcony, where a clear day will afford you a glimpse of the far off Silver Sea. When he sits, the Beast-Master glances at him without raising his head, then back to the book.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>SkekTek takes a deep breath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I'm going to ask you why you feel the need to fuss over me. And you may as well tell me the truth, because I'm likely to continue allying with you regardless of what you say.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><br/>SkekUng licks his finger, turns a page, but doesn't appear to be reading it.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Because you're sensible. Clever. Very clever.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Is that all?”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“And strong. Stronger than most would take you for.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“I see.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“And because I've been eyeing you ever since we had feathers. Never stopped.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>He says it the way he says most things; like he's reporting incoming rain clouds, on a day when his plans specifically took him outdoors. His fangs, locked into their perpetual sneer, give the impression that his feelings for skekTek are a wet mess on the floor he's been tasked with cleaning. It would all be laughable if skekTek's heart weren't suddenly and viciously hammering the back of his throat.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Oh. <em>Well</em>, then.” He smooths out the fine leather of his tool belt, several times. SkekUng turns another unnecessary page. “I...confess, I was expecting the usual courtroom politics. At the most, something...scurrilous.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Do you take me for the whimpering Chamberlain? Is it that unthinkable that I want to make you feel as safe as you deserve?”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>The words come to skekTek's beak before he has a chance to think about them.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“I think...it's entirely possible that you already do.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>And the Beast Master, all at once, goes very, very still.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>Slowly, slowly, he closes the book, does not set it aside, and pats the empty spot on the seat beside him, the one skekTek had left deliberately void as a sort of buffer between them...and the moment he relocates to it, understands why. The air between them seems to hum, the nearness of skekUng almost overwhelming, and skekTek ponders whether his increasingly isolated life is to blame or just the fact that it's skekUng.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>And then, suddenly, it isn't the book the Beast Master is staring so intently at.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>And it seems skekTek is doomed to fall time after time for Skeksis who look like Fizzgigs.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Your crest,” skekUng says.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“...My…?”</p>
<p><br/><br/>SkekUng reaches out, brushing his fingers over the fine wisp of white fluff that runs down the center of skekTek's head, and was once that prominent crest of feathers – a crest that once upon a time, would have been fluffing absurdly to meet skekUng's touch.</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“I always liked it. Always will.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>SkekTek burns, is absolutely and without question going to combust in his seat, and yet he still feels the need to ask...</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“That...was you being flirtatious with me...correct?”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“...Alright.”</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>They sit hand in hand, without looking at one another or speaking a single word, until the breezes coming off the sea turn chilled.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re thinking.”<br/><br/><br/></p>
<p>“…Is there ever a time when I’m not thinking?”</p>
<p><br/><br/>“You’re thinking and staring. And the mess hasn’t even cooled on our thighs.” SkekTek grimaces, both for being sussed out and the fact that it’s true. “Tell me what’s wrong.”</p>
<p><br/><br/>SkekUng’s arms are already around him, but he inches further back into them, just for the warmth. He contemplates lying, just to avoid talking about it, but if he can’t be genuine with skekUng, after all this time, why bother ever being genuine at all?. “Oh...I don't know. Thinking of what we gave up when we left the castle. What you gave up.”</p>
<p><br/>SkekUng harumphs, but gently. “This again. If you pull off a bloodsucker, is that giving up the bloodsucker? You built your lab again. We have our deadly Garthim. We’re fine.”</p>
<p><br/><br/>“Precisely! Imagine what we could have achieved had we stayed at the Castle. The respect we would have commanded!” The part of skekTek that values precision of language whispers that ‘might’ have commanded is the term to use, and the part of him that really would prefer to be asking in the afterglow right now chastises him for not doing that, but when visions of what could have been find him, it’s never a simple matter to shut them off. “The Emperor trusted you, after all, and you always had such a great loyalty to him—"</p>
<p><br/>“They were going to take your eye.”</p>
<p><br/><br/>SkekTek really has nothing to say to that.<br/><br/><br/><br/>“I’m going to fill the bath. Will you join me?”</p>
<p><br/><br/>“Certainly.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The loss of skekUng’s warmth and scent around him is a loss, but the sound of him shifting about a room over is a comforting one; talons clicking, spigots turning, the rumble of steam and the roar of water splashing forth, things that he made with his own hands. Proof of what they’ve built together in this hidden underground network of chambers and honeycombing tunnels, far beyond the Swamp of Sog, and so very far beyond the Castle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time skekUng calls him in, the soreness in his muscles and the bites on the back of his neck are making themselves known – skekUng is a surprisingly gentle lover until skekTek asks him not to be – and the feeling of things drying on his skin is no longer fun, and more than that, he’s eager for an excuse to stop thinking about manacles his wrists and what would have happened had skekUng not been there, had they not overpowered skekZok down and ran.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The water is sending up a glorious steam that smells like the rain, so skekUng must have tipped in a cup of those bath crystals he likes. Sidetic is scratching at the door, and skekTek lets him in so he can run his usual circles around the tub, plant his little tail in his usual place on the floor, right where he can keep an eye on skekTek and assure himself his caretaker isn’t drowning. He still peeps in disapproval, but when the Scientist sinks in neck deep – properly deep, the castle tubs were always too shallow – he forgets he was ever sore in his life.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Transcendent.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They’re situated on opposite ends of the tub, calves touching as he watches skekUng wash himself through half-hooded eyes; as many trine as it’s been since they somehow found themselves together, skekUng’s wild mane plastered flat still makes him smile. When he takes up the sponge, skekTek rolls over, arms folded onto the cushioned edge of the tub as skekUng carefully cleans his scratched and bruised and bitten skin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hmph. Glutton for pain,” he remarks, laced with fondness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, you’re astoundingly proficient at doling it out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(It’s not the only thing he’s proficient at. SkekUng may be locked into a lifelong scowl and he may have a tendency to drool copiously mid-act, but he was a surgeon once, and those surgeon’s fingers are capable of things that have left him twitching. It’s an easy fact to reflect on, when skekUng is cleaning him with such exquisite gentleness beneath the tail. He leans forward just a touch, the parting of his thighs barely perceptible, but skekUng notices. He slips a finger into him into the base, and skekTek gets off a soft moan before Sidetic’s fierce warning chirps start up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t do the work around here,” skekUng reminds him, but removes his hand, all too aware that Sidetic will be in the water trying to bite him if he keeps it up.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Afterwards, draped in the towels that have spent an afternoon basking in the heater, they sip spiked ta and lounge about out in the cushioned window above the lab. The last of the light on the treetops is a melody of red and violets, and every now and then, he can hear Sidetic somewhere on the floors below, singing his evening flock song. It’s a glorious end to a day spent experimenting on his own terms.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And yet…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“…What if it doesn’t play out according to our machinations? What if we can’t make it back in time, and skekSil takes the throne?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>SkekUng looks at him in mild surprise. “That’s what’s been weighing on your mind?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can you fault me? The law is hardly on our side, so much of what we’ve dreamed is in the timing, and we burned our bridges with the Ritual-Master.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright. Suppose all else fails. Suppose we return late, and the Ritual-Master will not hear challenge. You think Skeksis, with the stinking Chamberlain on the throne, would fight to keep him there?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You have that little confidence in the Skeksis?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes. But more than that, confidence in us.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>SkekTek hums thoughtfully, accepting this like a medicinal draught. Not enough in itself to burn away the infection that is his doubt, his insecurity, the thought of what should happen if he fails, but something he can latch onto, something he can build off of. “Come to think of it, I <em>have </em>been nursing a hypothesis concerning the Crystal Bats. And if I’m correct, then we may be able to exponentially increase our surveillance, maybe even transmit from the Castle itself…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He realizes skekUng is smiling at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s a skekUng smile, which is to say it looks like it hurts, but it’s a smile nonetheless.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Should have swept you up 800 trine ago.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>SkekTek chuckles a reedy chuckle. “It's entirely your own fault that you didn't. If only you’d wrestled a few more snoutling.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>SkekUng plucks the cup of ta out of his talons and deposits it on the windowsill so as to be able to tug him close, snarling and rumbling into his neck until he grumbles and flails his tail in mock affront. SkekUng has a tendency to put a great many unspoken things into this. It’s always enough.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe <em>you </em>should be Emperor,” he purrs. “I would gladly kneel before you.” And then, before skekTek is quite through turning vivid red… “That was flirting. So there’s no room for doubt. Me, flirting with you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>SkekTek rolls his eyes, and pushes him down into the silks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh please, Beast Master. Do you think me <em>oblivious</em>?”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>